How I Leave You

Fireworks

 When the doors to the great hall open and we enter through them, there is not a single pair of eyes that does not land upon us. Upon the royal family of Erebor.

Thorin and I send each other a knowing look. Soldís squeezes my hand tightly, for she is not yet used to attention of this size, but Thrór already bathes in it like a king would. A small one, anyway.

My daughter might shine in rays of light, but my son? My son shines most brightly when he is surrounded by people who admire and respect him. So little a person he is. So grand a destiny he carries.

As we walk by our guests, we nod at them in greeting. From the front rows, many of them bow and curtsy, but in the back, I notice people are busy whispering. Probably, it is their first time laying their eyes on Soldís.

The Gem of the Mountain, they call her.

It makes me afraid, the way people speak of her, as though she were a thing from a myth or a goddess to be worshipped. She is no deity. She is the flesh of my flesh, and she bleeds just as I do.

And when people learn of that, of the power she carries within her blood...

I hold her a little closer to me, squeeze her hand a little tighter as we take our seats. Thorin raises his arms in invitation for the musicians to begin playing their songs, and begin they do.

The loveliest of music fills our halls, immediately conjuring a smile from me. I will never grow tired of this, of tunes and melodies, of words that rhyme and hold each other's hands in the rhythm. There was never any music in the kingdom of Rhûn. Songs, sure, and plenty of poetry to go around, but nothing like this.

They make it terribly difficult to sit still, melodies like these. Nearly impossible, if I am being honest.

And I'm not the only one who feels that way.

"Adad," Soldís says, looking up at her father with big eyes.

The question is hidden there. Thorin looks at me, and I nod. They have lasted all of two songs, the children, which is twice as long as they lasted last time.

"You may go," Thorin smiles, and not a moment passes before both of them have taken off, disappearing into the crowd of dancing guests.

"It is partly their party, after all," I say, sending a knowing smile to my husband.

"That it is indeed," he says, reaching for my hand on the armrest of his throne. "But you are fooling no one into thinking you aren't the center of it in a dress like that."
He looks at my gown, at its gilded fabric and ornate detailing. I follow his gaze.

"Yes," I say, letting my finger trace the embroidering. "The seamstress truly outdid herself. I will have to pay her a visit and a raise, I think."

"That, too," he says, looking back into my eyes again, "but before you do so, there is something else. Something urgent."

My brows furrow.

"What is it?" I ask.

There is amusement on his face. A smirk on his lips.

"You must dance."

I roll my eyes, but smile no less.

"Is that a command?"

"Yes," he says, looking regal once again. "And from your king at that."

"In that case, I better comply." I lean in close to his ear so that my words stay between us. "Lest we repeat what happened last time I disobeyed him."